


What Matters Most

by gestaltrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bloodplay, Dom/sub, Incest, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a problem, Sam isn't helpful. . .Or maybe he's too helpful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Matters Most

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lj user lucilla_darkate. She asked for bottom!Dean and alcoholic!Dean with enabler!Sam. This is what resulted

Sam was thirteen the first time he saw Dean get drunk. Laughing with him and at him had been a blast. Then Dean had tried to kiss him. Sam hadn’t kissed anyone yet and here was his brother, trying to push his tongue in his mouth.

“Get off.” Sam shoved Dean but he wasn’t showing the height or the muscles that, in a few years, he would grow into. Consequently, Dean barely moved.

“Sam. Sam. Sammy. Sam. Sam. Why are you so pretty, Sammy?”

Pushing against his brother, Sam said, “Dean, don’t.”

Losing his equilibrium, Dean fell back on his ass. It seemed to shock him because he suddenly stated babbling. “So sorry, Sammy. So sorry.” He began to cry and Sam looked around. The house Dean had dragged him to was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t see anyone he recognized.

“Shhh, Dean.” Sam helped him to his feet and then managed to get him outside. All the time Dean was mumbling apologies. “Stop.” Sam felt infinitely patient with his drunken brother, or at least he thought so.

Getting outside just in time for Dean to puke all over someone’s nice flowers, Sam held onto him the entire time. If this was what alcohol was about, he could leave it alone.

Sam managed to get the keys and drove carefully home. Dad was gone, off hunting something, and he had left Dean in charge, which had been all well and good as long as they stayed at home.

Dean had been invited to a party, his first party, he had told Sam. He wasn’t going to miss it just because he was babysitting. Sam had told Dean to leave him at home, but Dean was convinced he would tell Dad so he had taken Sam with him.

Pulling into the driveway, Sam parked the car. Helping Dean into the house would prove interesting.

“Did you know you have pretty eyes, Sammy?”

Sam grunted; he really didn’t want to talk to Dean when he was in this kind of mood. Sighing with relief as they reached the door, he took out the keys and slid them into the lock. Hearing the click, Sam pushed the door open. “Are you done puking? ‘Cause if you’re not, you can stay out here for a while. I don’t want to explain to Dad why the house smells like puke.”

Dean looked up at Sam with a goofy grin on his face. “Been dreaming about you, Sammy. Is this another dream?”

“No, damnit, Dean, it’s not! Fuck this. Bed, you are going to bed, now.” Sam pulled Dean up from the porch step he had sunk down on. Half dragging, half carrying Dean, Sam got the two of them in the house. Thank god this one only had stairs on the porch. He made his way through the living room, making a detour away from the couch where Dean insisted that he could sleep.

Finally he pushed Dean down on his bed. “Don’t say another damn word, Dean. Go to sleep.” Sam was willing to bet that he had been almost dead to the world before Sam closed the door behind him and went to get a glass of water.

Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? Sitting at the kitchen table, Sam stared off into space, thinking. Dean kissed him. Dean _kissed_ him. Dean kissed _him_. No matter how he said it to himself, it just didn’t sound right. Dean dreamed about him. Those kind of dreams, the ones where you wake up with your briefs soaked in come.

Sam felt perverted. Just thinking about Dean coming because he had been dreaming about Sam was making him hard.

Fuck this. Dean had been so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember what he had done, much less said.

Sam was right. The next morning Dean woke up with a killer headache and no memory of anything past arriving at the party.

The second time Sam saw Dean get drunk was two years later. Dean had dropped out of the last high school they had been in because he was failing anyway. Dad just accepted it and started taking Dean on hunts with him, leaving Sam alone. Dean had made his first kill and Dad bought the both of them a bottle of Jack. It was supposed to be for one congratulatory drink for Dean and the rest for Dad but Sam watched as Dean matched Dad drink for drink until the bottle was empty.

Dad had been proud of Dean and to this day Sam isn’t sure if he was proud because Dean killed something or proud because Dean could keep up with him drinking. Sam had watched, picking up after the two of them trashed the house. Really, neither one of them should ever drink anything remotely alcoholic. Sam sighed as he swept the floor.

Later, after Dad and Dean were both in bed, Sam went and got the mop. At fifteen he wondered if he was ever going to get out of here, get away from this dysfunction that was his family. Having contemplated running away before, Sam realized that he couldn’t leave, not while Dean still needed him. Looking around the room, Sam knew he was needed, if only to pick up their mess.

Heading back to his bedroom, he had to pass Dean’s room. Dean, who was awake. Dean, who was awake and standing at his door. Remembering what had happened the last time Dean had been drunk, Sam stayed as far from him as he could.

“Sammy.”

“Go to sleep.”

“It was horrible. Sam, it screamed when I killed it. Like a kid, like you.”

“I’m not a kid.”

Dean didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s why I drank tonight. I thought I could stop hearing you scream. Sammy, why were you screaming?”

Knowing that Dean wouldn’t admit to something like this when he was sober, Sam took a calming breath. “I haven’t been screaming. You went hunting with Dad, remember? I was in school.”

“It was like I killed you. I was scared ‘til I saw you. I didn’t believe it, not really.” Dean walked up to Sam.

Now that Sam had hit puberty, he was almost as tall as his brother. Looking in Dean’s eyes, Sam tried to slide down the hall. Dean put his hand on the wall, stopping him.

Dean leaned in and Sam would have backed up if he could. As it was, Sam’s head hit the wall and Dean licked his neck.

 _He licked his neck!_

Desperately ignoring the flare of desire in his stomach, Sam tried to push Dean away. Dean started protesting, loudly. If Sam didn’t shut him up, he was going to wake up Dad and Sam certainly didn’t want to answer questions that he didn’t even want thought about, let alone asked. Sam grabbed Dean’s head and brought their lips together.

Remarkably, Dean shut up. Sam had kissed a couple of girls since the last time Dean kissed him. He kind of had a clue what to do this time, moving his lips and turning his head so that their noses didn’t get all mushed up. Then Dean was kissing him back and pushing him against the wall. He could feel Dean’s hard on pressed up against him. Hoping that Dean wouldn’t find out that he was hard too, Sam shifted and Dean added more pressure.

“Oh god, oh Sammy,” Dean murmured against him, his voice full of need.

“Damnit, Dean. Not like this, not with you drunk.”

“Fine.” Dean pushed off the wall behind Sam, turned and wobbled his way into his room.

The next morning both Dean and Dad had pretty good hangovers. It was Saturday so Sam puttered around the house, finishing cleaning and picking things up. Getting apologies from both of them, Sam shrugged. Being upset wouldn’t change anything.

Dean, once again, seemed to have no memory of what had happened. In his bedroom Sam adjusted himself for the tenth time in the past few minutes. Knowing that Dean wanted him gave Sam this unbelievable feeling of power, power over Dean. It felt good.

After that, Sam often saw Dean drinking, but he rarely got drunk when he was home. It seemed that he had picked up on how uncomfortable Sam was about him drinking. But it didn’t stop him from picking on Sam when he wouldn’t touch alcohol. He had called Sam all kinds of names. Pansy was the least of it, all because Sam wouldn’t drink.

It took all of Sam’s self-control not to tell Dean that he knew his dirty little secret. The asshole. What Sam did do was a subtle attack on Dean, to see if he would admit to his feelings while sober.

Letting a towel slip here, the shirt ride up there. Nothing too obvious, certainly nothing that Dad would pick up on. Hearing Dean’s breath catch let Sam know he had won another round. He always acted like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing to his brother.

It was almost a year and a half later, they had moved four times and finally Dad had left them alone again, having something to hunt that Sam and Dean couldn’t help him with. Sam had been pushing Dean harder than ever. Twice in the past year Dean had gotten drunk and hit on him. Making out with him, Sam never let it go any farther. No matter how Dean pushed or begged, Sam wanted him sober and told him each time.

Dean broke down the second day. Sam had a tank top on that had fit him last year, now it was too small and pulled up so that his stomach was showing. Wearing some shorts that he had laid in the tub with them on, gotten soaked and then let them dry, they couldn’t have been more form fitting.

It had been Sam adjusting his cock that finally made Dean snap.

“Stop that and go change.”

Sam gave Dean his best innocent look, which even he had to admit was pretty good.

“Don’t give me that look, damnit. Go fucking change.”

“Make me.”

“Sammy, you don’t want to start this.”

“What if I do?” Sam walked over to where Dean was sitting.

Dean apparently couldn’t take staring at Sam’s dick, that was clearly outlined in the shorts, because he stood quickly enough. “You’re dressed like a whore. Go and fucking change.”

“How would you know what a whore looks like? Especially male ones?”

Dean blushed. He fucking blushed.

“You haven’t?”

“Of course not.” Dean was vehement in his denial.

 _Yeah right._

“I’ve just seen ‘em when I’ve been out with Dad.”

Sam just nodded.

“So go fucking change.”

Sam closed the distance between them so that he was looking down on Dean. So close he could smell him. While Sam hadn’t grown into his height yet, still all elbows and knees, he was taller than Dean now and he used it to his advantage.

“Why don’t you tell me what you really want me to do?” Sam looked down at him, wondering if this time Dean would tell him while he was sober.

Dean hit Sam, right across the jaw. Sam went down and Dean ran. It was the first time Dean had ever hit him. Running his fingers over the knot that was forming along his jaw, Sam tried to think of what to do next but came to no conclusions.

He had been lying on his bed for hours. It had started raining and he had stopped thinking and just listened to the rain beat on the roof. Not, most definitely not, worried about Dean out in the rain. Hearing him come in was a bit of a relief.

Coming home drunk, Dean was trying to be quiet. Sam knew this because Dean was making a god awful racket and then telling himself to be quiet.

Lying on his bed, Sam wondered what Dean would do this time. Go to bed or come into his room. The dark shadow filling his doorway was his answer.

Dean just stood there dripping on his floor. He didn’t come in and he didn’t say anything. Finally, Sam turned and looked at him. “Are you coming in or what?”

Entering the room, Dean crossed through the blue light of the moon shining through his window. He was crying, Sam was pretty sure, judging by the look on his face more than the tracks of water down it. Dean stood beside his bed and seemed to be trying to get himself under control. “Sa-a-m-m-m-y,” Dean’s voice hitched through his name and Sam gave up. He wasn’t going to fight this anymore.

“Come here.”

Dean went to get in his bed, still soaking wet. “No, Dean. Strip. You are not getting my bed all wet.”

Giving Sam a deer in the headlights look, Dean nevertheless tried to get his clothes off. He couldn’t manage the shirt let alone his pants. Seeing Dean getting his arms tangled in it and then starting to struggle, Sam got up and helped him.

“Shhh, here.” Sam calmed Dean and then got him untangled. Sam ran his hands down Dean’s smooth sides unsure of whose breath hitched. Unbuttoning the jeans, Sam slid his hands down underneath them and grabbed Dean’s ass, for which he was rewarded with a moan.

Finishing getting Dean undressed would have been funny if the whole situation didn’t feel so desperate. As soon as Sam got the last of Dean’s soaked clothes off of him, Dean started shivering.

Getting Dean into bed, Sam slid in beside him and pulled him close. It took a while but the shivering subsided, then it was as if he had broken his brother, but not in the way he wanted. Dean cried.

Sam brushed his hand over Dean’s head.

“Sorry, so fucking sorry. You should hate me. I hate me.” On and on Dean mumbled through his tears.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Should. I hit you.”

“I deserved it. Come here,” Sam said as he pulled Dean up so that they were face to face. Running his fingers over Dean’s cheek, Sam leaned over and licked a tear off of his chin, just before it dropped. Dean’s breath caught and Sam could smell the alcohol.

“Sammy.”

“Shh, let me take care of you.” Sammy stilled any protest by kissing him. The thought flickered through his head that he was glad Dean hadn’t puked and then all coherent thought left.

Tongues tangled and teeth hit. It wasn’t how Sam had wanted Dean to come to him, but he couldn’t stand to see him hurting like this. “DeanDeanDean,” he chanted as he ran his large hands over his brother. Noticing Dean’s breath growing more and more ragged, Sam pulled back.

“You, ‘kay?”

Dean was flushed, taking in oxygen like he hadn’t had any in a year. He was hyperventilating. Fuck. Sam got up and found an empty fast food bag in the garbage. Shaking it out to make sure it was truly empty, Sam ran back to his bedroom, trying not to slip on the wet trail that Dean had left on the floor when he had come in.

“Here.” Sam thrust the bag at Dean, who was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to catch his breath.

Dean looked stupidly at the bag and then up at Sam.

Motioning for Dean to put the bag up to his face and breathe into it, Sam started babbling. Telling Dean about how hyperventilating raised the level of oxygen in the blood and any other details that popped into his head.

Breathing into the paper bag, Dean calmed some. Enough to say something into his bag.

“What?”

Taking the bag out of his mouth, Dean told him he was a geek.

Sam nodded. He was studying to take his SAT’s and he hadn’t mentioned it to Dean or Dad, knowing it would be a waste of time to try to explain that he wanted something other than this life.

Dean let the bag fall to the floor. Beaming up at Sam, he slid back into bed and patted beside him.

Rolling his eyes, Sam stepped over to his bed but was stopped before he could get in. Stopped by Dean’s hand on his dick. Oh holy fuck. Quicker than Sam had thought possible, Dean had his pajama bottoms around his ankles and had his mouth on Sam’s cock.

Sam gasped. He might have said something but he had no clue what. His entire attention was on his cock and what Dean was doing to it. Dean’s mouth, his tongue, his fingers. Sam groaned. Holy fucking Mary Jesus Jones, he was going to come. Trying to pull back, he was stopped by Dean’s arm wrapping around his thigh, fingers brushing against his balls. Dean was sucking harder and Sam couldn’t stop his hips from shooting forward.

Coming from his first ever blow job was the best orgasm he’d ever had. The fact that his brother was giving it to him made it kind of weird but it was still the best.

Dean backed off and Sam slumped to the bed, pajama pants still around his ankles. Kicking them off, he crawled in and lay next to Dean. He couldn’t miss Dean’s erection pressed into his hip. Maneuvering until he had more access to Dean, Sam started kissing him. Kissing all of those spots that he had mapped out in his mind whenever he got a good look at his brother, he worked his way down Dean’s body.

He had a scar on his neck, not from hunting but from flipping a knife to show off for some girl, drunk. Sam licked then bit it and Dean moaned and arched up against him. Smiling, Sam continued. There was a cluster of freckles on his chest that Sam stared at every chance he could. Sam moved his lips down to it. While he kissed the freckles he couldn’t help but notice Dean’s nipples.

Sucking on his nipples had Dean mumbling incoherently. Then Sam moved his hand down to wrap around Dean’s cock, smiling as it twitched in his hand. Sam bit down and was surprised when Dean came. Hot come spurting over his hand and both their bellies.

Dean passed out and Sam cleaned them both up. He sat up for a while, trying to decide what to do. Finally he shrugged and climbed back into bed with Dean; it was his bed after all. Having cooled off considerably while he had been sitting, he was surprised when Dean immediately wrapped himself around Sam. Arm over his chest, leg over one of his, Sam was cocooned in Dean’s warmth. Soon he fell asleep.

Waking up, Sam found himself alone. Wondering what Dean was up to, Sam got up, threw on some clothes, and went to look for him. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes red from crying. Sam walked up and touched his face, wiping a tear off with his thumb before Dean jerked backwards.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong, that’s why. What happened last night?” Dean sounded like he was accusing Sam of something.

Not fucking again. Sam sighed; he had known it was a bad idea. “What do you remember?”

“I remember you prancing around here like a fucking whore.”

Sam rubbed his jaw and Dean looked apologetic for a moment.

“I . . . I hit you and left.”

Sam nodded. “And then. . .?”

Dean looked at Sam with something akin to panic in his eyes. “I . . . I don’t . . . remember.”

Sam took a deep breath in. Damn.

“Sammy, tell me what I did.”

“Nothing, Dean, nothing happened.” Sam could do this, for Dean.

“Why?” Dean visibly swallowed. “Why were we naked? I thought I had . . . ra--”

Sam cut him off. “No. You were soaked and we couldn’t get you warm. Remember Dad’s lessons on hypothermia? Best way to warm your core up . . .” He let his voice trail off as relief visibly flowed over his brother.

Dean grinned at him and his heart broke a little. “Yeah, that’s right. Sorry ‘bout that, bro.”

“No problem.” He was going to get his applications in to college as soon as he could; there was no way he could live like this anymore.

So, Sam got a full ride to Stanford and took it. Dad was mad, but Dean seemed more relieved than anything. Of course he played it up around Dad that he was upset that Sam was ‘abandoning’ them. Later, however, he cornered Sam outside, this time sober, and told him he was proud and happy that Sam was leaving.

‘Proud and happy’ wasn’t exactly what Dean was feeling and Sam knew it. ‘Disappointed and mostly relieved’ was more like it.

Sam packed his bags, didn’t kiss his brother and left with his father telling him to never come back.

Two nights later, after arriving at Stanford, Sam called Dean.

“Dude.” Dean’s voice sounded rough.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“You drunk?”

“Why? Do you fucking care? Oh wait, that’s right, you left because you don’t. Fuck off, College Boy!” Dean hung up on him.

Sam stared in disbelief at the phone in his hand. Then he got angry. He _was_ going to make a new life here. One without hunting, or brothers kissing, or constantly moving. Normal, that’s what he wanted. If there was a God, just please let him have normal.

For three years, two months and five days, Sam had ‘normal’. He had a beautiful girlfriend, Jess, which could be turning into something permanent. He was looking at law schools, getting all of the pieces together so that he could apply in January. He had just passed his LSATs with more than enough margin that he would get accepted to any one he wanted to apply to.

Waking up to a noise, Sam realized that someone had broken into their apartment. Slipping down the stairs, Sam managed to surprise the intruder. After a fight like he hadn’t had since he left Dad and Dean, he was subdued by the intruder.

It was Dean.

Once, a couple of years before, Dean and Dad had been in the area and Dean had showed up at one his economics class. Sam recalls that they had been discussing the pros and cons of supply side economics. He couldn’t remember anything else about supply side economics, but he remembered his meeting with Dean.

“Dean.” Sam looked at him, his eyes drinking him in. He had lived most of his life seeing this man everyday and he missed him. It was as though there was a big hole in his heart, it was that kind of missing him.

“Sam.” Dean sounded tired.

“Is it Dad?”

“No, no nothing like that. It’s just that I…,” Dean seemed to steel himself for something. “Iwantyoutocomeback.”

Sam stared. What the fuck was Dean playing at? He just couldn’t figure it out.

Apparently Dean took his lack of response as a no. Saying fuck it, he turned and started to walk away.

“Wait.”

Dean stopped and didn’t quite look at Sam, staring at some spot over his shoulder.

“Why?” he asked when he really wanted to ask if Dean had been drinking again.

“S’not the same.”

“What not having someone to pick up after you?”

“No.” Dean paused. “No, that’s not it.”

“Well, what is it?” Sam was trying to keep his patience.

“Need you to watch my back.”

Sam stared at Dean with his mouth open. Then he snapped it shut, with a click that echoed in the hall they were in. “What? Why?”

“Dad’s good but when he’s involved with what he does, he can’t, he doesn’t. . .,” Dean still appeared to be unable to criticize Dad.

“What happened?” Sam asked just as the hall began to fill as classes let out. Dean looked a little overwhelmed. Sam led him to a small alcove. “I need to get my books, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Rushing to his class, Sam grabbed his bag and shoved his books in with his laptop. He was stopped by the teacher and told of an assignment. Sam nodded barely hearing him.

Excusing himself, he made a beeline back for the alcove. Dean was gone, he had left a note.

> Sam,
> 
> Sorry, Dad called. I’ll see you soon.
> 
> D.W.

That was it. He hadn’t seen Dean in two years. Now here he was pinning him to the floor of his own apartment.

They did a lovely little verbal dance around each other. Each one not saying what the other means. Dad had disappeared and Dean wanted Sam to help him find him.

Sam had told him no. It was hard, this was Dean. But Sam had Jess and he had normal and he wanted to keep it. Sam knew that Dean still had the power to break his heart. That no matter how much he denied it, suppressed it, tried to forget it, Dean had been his first in so many ways.

Dean had played a voice mail that had convinced him to spend the weekend looking for Dad. Either they found him or they didn’t but he was done. Slipping back into old habits, Dean drove and Sam annoyed him. Fuck but Sam was angry at Dean. Dad, too, but mostly Dean.

“Two years.”

“What?” Dean asked turning down the stereo, how he listened to Zeppelin wasn’t conducive to talking.

“You said you’d be back.”

“When?” Dean sounded truly confused.

“Two years ago, you showed up and dragged me out of class, asked me to come back with you. . .ring any bells?”

“I did what?”

Sam slipped his wallet out of his pocket. Showing Dean the often folded note, Sam wondered if Dean was going to ask why he had kept a note for two years.

“Sam. . .”

Oh fuck, here if comes again. Damn it.

“I don’t remember. I mean that’s my handwriting, but I. . .”

“Forget it, Dean. You’d probably been drinking.”

Dean looked like someone had kicked his puppy. They dropped it, figured out what was going on with the haunting in Jericho. Dean got arrested and Sam helped him escape, just like he used to before, before he left. God how fucked up was his childhood that he had known just how to distract the cops so Dean could escape.

After taking care of the spirit, Dean had been excited. Figuring out a note that Dad had left him, he wanted to go straight to Colorado to find him. Sam pointed out he had said the weekend. He wanted to go home. So, Dean took him home.

Then Jess had been killed the same way that Sam had been told that his mom had. Now he had a reason to leave and none to stay, not really. His best chance at normal had died with her belly slit, pinned to their ceiling. To this day, Sam isn’t sure if he loved Jess or just what she offered him. It didn’t matter, he had gotten her killed.

Sam left with Dean. Dean the annoying. Dean the beautiful. Dean his brother.

Dean drank often and a lot. Sam spent more time driving than Dean did. But, since Sam wasn’t in the hurry that Dean was, he took his time. Dean seemed to be over his whatever it was for Sam and Sam wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

Having stocked up on booze in Nevada, Sam drove through Utah. Sam confronted Dean about all his drinking about half way across, when they had stopped for the night.

Dean took every bottle and poured them down the drain, muttering about how he wasn’t addicted to anything, damnit and on and on. After it was gone, it seemed to hit him what he had done. Dumped out his alcohol in a state where it was hard to buy a beer let alone something harder.

“You aren’t an alcoholic?” Sam asked as he saw the panic rising in Dean’s face.

“No,” Dean put on his game face. “I’m fine.”

Sam snorted. Dean was a long way from fine. “Whatever.”

The next morning Dean hadn’t slept and was looking sick.

“I . . .” He raised a shaky hand to his face. “Sammy, I’m sorry. . .”

Concerned Sam went over to him. Placing his hand on Dean’s face. “Oh, god. You’re burning up.”

“Dust, no, _just_ , need a drink.” Dean slurred the words as if he were already drunk. “Sssssammy, need it like ‘m need you.”

Sam was really worried now. Dean never talked about needing him. Not sober anyway. “Just a sec, Dean.” Sam’s voice was calm.

Flipping open the laptop Sam typed in symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. The results had him looking at Dean with worry. Sam obviously hadn’t known what could happen, if he had he wouldn’t have asked Dean to stop. . .or whatever.

“’M hot Sam.”

“Let’s get you into a shower.” Hyperthermia was a symptom of withdrawal. They had dealt with heat stroke before. Getting them both naked, Sam hissed as he touched Dean. Fuck he was hot. Turning on the shower, Sam maneuvered them both in. The cool water seemed to revive Dean a bit and he pushed off of Sam.

“Nugendt,” Dean mumbled.

“What?”

“Naged, need a drink, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Naked?” Sam guessed and Dean nodded. “And you’re thirsty?” Again a nod.

“You okay for a sec?” Sam made sure Dean was leaning against a wall. At his brother’s nod, Sam quickly got out and got Dean a cup of cold water. Knowing that Dean was probably dehydrated, Sam was happy that he wanted something to drink.

Stepping back into the shower, Sam noticed Dean listing to the right, but he hadn’t fallen. Sam pushed the glass into Dean’s hand and he tossed it back like it was a shot of tequila.

He promptly puked. Retching first he gave Sam enough warning to get out of the way. Dean ended up on his hands and knees trying to put his stomach on the shower floor. All the time, water beat down on him. Sam crouched next to him, rubbing his back.

Then it was done and Sam helped him out and dried him off. Getting Dean into some clothes was impossible so Sam just put him to bed and went back to his laptop, a worried frown on his face.

The more he read, the more scared he became. Hallucinations, tremors, death, fucking death, Sam shook his head. He needed to get Dean to the hospital.

He bundled his brother in the cheap motel bedspread, grabbed his duffel, and picked him up. Driving to the nearest hospital, St. Joseph’s or something. Sam took Dean to the emergency room. Getting Dean admitted was no problem, they could see he wasn’t responsive. Then, however Sam met the attending physician.

“Drinker, huh?”

Sam rolled his eyes, he hated when people asked him stupid questions.

“Can you help him?”

Sam got a fake smile, and an of course. The minute he left, Sam raided every drawer and cupboard. Putting in all in his messenger bag, he slipped out of the room and saw that someone having a heart attack had come in and everyone was distracted. Grabbing a couple of IV bags and accessories, Sam went back and got Dean.

They managed to get out the door without being spotted or at least stopped and Sam drove them back to the motel. Be damned if he was going to leave Dean’s life in the hands of someone who didn’t care if he lived or died and that was exactly the feeling he had got from that doctor.

Flipping open the laptop Sam took a few moments to hack into the hospital’s computer. First thing he did was delete all mention of their visit. Next he went to research what he could do for Dean. This place didn’t have anything. Covering his tracks, he made it look like the attending physician was the one doing the checking and he got out of their system.

Looking at Dean laying on the bed, shaking, motivated him to find something. Dean needed to be hydrated, that mean IV. Sam took a calming breath. He had helped Dad do this before. He could do this.

Dean was hallucinating and crying. Sam wasn’t positive about what Dean was seeing but he kept calling Sam’s name and Sam was terrified. He had known for a while that he might lose Dean because of alcohol, he hadn’t known he might lose him because of the lack of it.

“I’m here Dean.” Sam tried to comfort him as he laid out all of the stuff for the IV.

Wiping the back of Dean’s hand with an alcohol wipe, Sam got out the syringe and got the IV started. He was very careful because he knew that if he screwed this up he could kill Dean. Embolisms were never a good thing, Sam knew.

Sam relaxed a little as the fluid began to drip. Setting up a makeshift stand on the headboard, Sam made sure that the solution was still flowing. He left it for the moment and picked up his laptop. There was an easy way to fix this problem, but he needed to wait until the morning. Damn fucking state anyway.

Dean’s color got better and Sam watched. He had a couple of mini seizures and Sam held him still. Damn that doctor.

Early the next day, Sam was at the store buying beer. Getting back, he opened one and waved it under Dean’s nose.

His eyes popped open and if everything hadn’t been so serious Sam would have laughed. Dean looked at the beer, like a starving man at a crust of bread and in a way it was like that. From what Sam had read, every cell in Dean’s body was used to a certain level of alcohol and with it gone, every cell had started dying.

Dean reached for the beer and then noticed the IV in his arm. He just stared at it for a moment.

“Hold on,” Sam said grabbing a gauze pad and some tape, Sam removed the IV line and held pressure on the spot for a couple of minutes. Handing Dean the bottle of beer while they waited, Dean wouldn’t quite meet his eye.

“Sorry,” Sam said and Dean looked up at him incredulously. “Look, I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Dean seemed to think about it for a moment and then he took a drink of his beer. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Good, he was sounding coherent again. Sam smiled and checked under the gauze. Putting on a bandage, he let his fingers trail across the bruise that was already forming under it. Dean watched him and drank his beer.

When that one was gone, Sam got him another. Rationalizing that Dean needed this, needed him, made him feel better. He ignored the reason that Dean needed him so badly right now was his fault entirely.

By that evening Dean seemed ready to leave and Sam talked him into one more night. Leaving in the early morning light, Sam drove the Impala and headed for Colorado.

What a mess that was. Fucking Windego. Fucking girl. Fucking dad, running off, leaving them with that mess. Sam just wanted it over, wanted to find dad, wanted everything to be okay, like it never was. If he couldn’t have normal with Jess then at least he would get the thing that killed her. Dean said that it helped him, helping other families because theirs was all shot to hell. He could understand that sentiment.

When he smiled at Sam with his little smile and told him that his anger was going to eat him up, he thought it funny, kind of. That was rich coming from a man whose survival lay in a bottle.

They moved on, Dean started getting drunk again. Started hitting on Sam again too. Sam didn’t know what was worse, Dean bringing someone to fuck or Dean wanting to fuck him. All of the back and forth, hot-cold shit was beginning to drive him mad.

Then Sam saw something that made him re-think everything.

Walking in on your brother jacking off is not something that Sam would recommend to anyone. But that wasn’t all. Sam opened the door to the motel room where they were staying. “Dean, they didn’t have. . .” his voice trailed off. Dean was there. Sitting up on his bed naked, with his knife in his hand. What the hell was going on? Was Dean performing some ritual?

Watching as his brother slid the knife down his arm, pressing yet not breaking the skin. As sharp as Dean kept all of the knives, Sam had to admit he was impressed with Dean’s control. Dean’s cock twitched as he slid the knife down again. Sam almost hissed in sympathy as the knife bit into Dean’s flesh.

Dean watched the blood running down his arm for a moment, before bringing his arm up to his face. He licked it. It was the most erotic thing Sam had ever seen. Reaching down he adjusted his suddenly very hard cock.

Then Dean held his hand over his cock and let the blood drip on it. Drip. Drip. Sam wondered what in the hell he was doing.

Reaching down Dean wrapped his bloody fingers around his bloody dick and started to jerk off. Sam shoved his hand down his pants and jacked off with him. Watching Dean come was more interesting to Sam than coming himself, he discovered.

Dean was mumbling something. “Isn’t that right, Sam?” came out clear enough. Then he turned and looked at him, his bloody hand still wrapped around his cock and a grin on his face.

Sam turned and ran.

Yeah, so Sam decided to deal with knowing that his brother liked to jack off using his own blood as lubricant, the only way he knew. Ignore, ignore, ignore, oh and get Dean drunk.

This time, however, Dean refused to drink. _Dean_ refused to drink. Unless, unless Sam did, too.

Pouring shots for both of them Sam sat at the table. Dean sauntered over and sat pulling the chair around backwards.

Throwing his drink back, Dean then slammed the glass down on the table, all the while watching Sam. Sam who was taking a sip of his until he saw Dean’s eyes on him, he tossed his drink down his throat. He choked a little as it burned its way down. Dean just cocked an eyebrow at him and poured them both another drink. Sam watched the arm that Dean had cut earlier. Dean noticed.

“Wanna see? You want to see just how fucked up your brother is?” He slammed back his shot and poured another one.

Shaking his head, Sam tossed back his drink and managed not to sputter that time. “You’re not fucked up.” The enormity of the lie had Dean staring at him openmouthed.

“No more than me anyway.” Sam concluded.

Dean unbuttoned his shirt and slid the black cotton off of his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He just stood there in his wife-beater, waiting for a response it seemed. Sam looked up at his brother with lust in his eyes. His eyes flittered over the long slice on Dean’s left arm and he could feel himself getting hard again. Shaking his head again he poured them both another shot. At the rate he was going to be drunk in no time.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice had an undercurrent that Sam hadn’t heard before. Meeting his brother’s gaze again Sam almost flinched at the despair he saw. Standing and swaying a little he moved across the room to his brother.

“Dean,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss him. He would take his pain away, make it better.

Shoving Dean against the wall, Sam raised the arm with the cut and did what he wanted to do earlier. He licked it. Dean’s movements had opened it and pearls of blood were beading upon his skin. Dean moaned and closed his eyes.

“Is this what you want, Dean?” Sam said and tightened his grip where his fingers wrapped around the cut, squeezing out some more blood. Dean’s hips shot forward and pressed against Sam’s.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

While Sam had been gone he had been busy. Thank god for libraries and the internet. He had done research on ‘blood play’ and ‘blood sports’. Also he dug around until, through some odd links, he ended up on a cutting site. Sam was sure that Dean wasn’t a cutter, not like they described. His was more like the blood play, sexually excited by the endorphins that were released when he was cut.

Maybe Dean was just into pain, maybe he wasn’t. Sam knew he was into this though and he leaned in and licked the blood that was running down Dean’s arm. Perhaps, when he was sober if Dean wanted him to, he would cut his brother. Oh, fuck the thought of it had him hard and leaking.

He lifted his bloody lips and kissed Dean. Pushing his brother up against the wall again Sam pushed his hips against Dean’s. Fuck, he was too tall and drunk enough not to care. He pulled his brother up until one of his legs was wrapped around the back of his thigh. _There._ They just fit. Erections brushing through their pants.

It would be so much better if they were naked but fuck it felt good. Dean came first and Sam couldn’t hold back after that friction and the sounds Dean was making drove him over the edge.

Somehow they managed to stay conscious enough to stumble over to the bed.

It was raining when Sam woke up. It pounding on the roof wasn’t helping his headache. Rolling over, Sam saw Dean sitting at the table, watching him. When he saw Sam was awake he brought a glass of water over, not saying anything.

Peachy.

Sam remembered everything about last night. Looking down he realized he had came in his pants and not cleaned up or anything. Drinking the water, Sam was thankful. Then his bladder spoke up and he was out of the bed heading for the bathroom quicker than he would have thought possible, considering.

He peeled his pants down with a grimace. What a mess. Pissing helped him feel better. Good enough in fact that he decided to shower. He had just stepped out of his pants when the door opened. Straightening he looked at Dean.

“You ‘kay?”

Sam’s face softened. “Yeah, just need to wash.”

Dean nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Standing under the water Sam tried to figure out when his life had became such a tangled mess. How the hell could he be turned on by the thought of his brother writhing beneath him, blood running down his chest where Sam had cut him? Fuck! He was coming just from the thought of it.

 _Sick. He was sick._

Rinsing the come off of his body and the walls of the shower, Sam turned it off and stepped out. Or tried to. Slipping he grabbed for something, anything. His last thought before he hit the wall was who was going to take care of Dean.  
*****************

Waking up with Dean jabbering at him wasn’t new. Dean talking crap about Dad was just fucking unbelievable. Even after all that crap in Nebraska, and the mirrors and Bloody fucking Mary, never had he heard Dean talk bad about their dad.

“Find him and kick his ass,” Dean said just as Sam turned and looked at him. “Hey.”

“Hey. Why aren’t I on the bathroom floor?” and still naked went unspoken. “How long was I out?”

Dean looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Reaching over and grabbing a beer off of the bedside table, he took a drink before he answered him.

“Two days since you hit your head and you’ve been weird.”

 _He’d been weird?_ Wait, two days? “Two days?” Then he noticed the room they were in, yet another of a long line of motel rooms, but this one had stained blue carpet and blue paisley bedspreads. The one they’d been in, where he’d hit his head, it had had some kind of beige carpet and horrid orange floral bedspreads.

“Where are we?”

Now Dean looked at Sam with real concern. “What do you remember?”

“I remember falling and hitting my head, I guess.” Sam rubbed the spot where he still felt a knot and winced.

“What about all that crap about leaving hunting?”

Sam looked at Dean in confusion. Now he knew how Dean felt when he blacked out. “What?”

“You said,” Dean raised his eyebrow and nodded his head like he didn’t believe that Sam had said what he had said, “that you wanted to stop looking for Dad and forget about Jess. Andstayherewithme.” He rushed the last part.

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to stay here with me,” Dean spoke a little slower. Sam stared at Dean. He had said what?

“Oh,” Sam said and watched as a spark of something, hope maybe, died in Dean’s eyes. “Did you want to? Forget about Dad, everything and just be?” Sam asked, confused.

“What? No, no. We need to find Dad.” Dean looked away. “Why don’t you remember? You hadn’t been drinking, ‘cept the night before.”

They weren’t going to talk about the night before, Sam knew, Dean knew and Sam knew Dean knew. Gah, this was making his head hurt. Really. Putting his hand up to his head, he felt for the knot again.

“I was really acting that way? Did I do anything?” When he got a raised eyebrow he tried to elucidate. “Did I hit on you?” It was what he really wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Dean gave him a small grin. “You tried to get me drunk and have your way with me.”

“I did what?” Sam’s voice rose like he was twelve again. He coughed. “I mean, I did what?”

Sitting back Dean crossed his arms, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You really don’t remember?”

“Duh, would I be asking you if I did?”

“Dunno, maybe.”

“Dude, fucking forget it. I don’t remember it.”

A look of concern flashed across Dean’s face, then it was gone. “Fine, I won’t tell you what you said to me in the bathroom.”

Looking at Dean, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What did I say?”

Dean laughed and waved his hands as if to ward off Sam’s look. “None of that.” He got up and walked to the window, twitching the curtain back a little looked outside.

Sam swung his legs around and got up. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but if Dean wasn’t having one over on him, he’d been awake and doing things for the past two days and he didn’t remember any of it. Going to the bathroom and then brushing his teeth, he found that he was staring in the mirror, like he didn’t recognize himself.

He could feel that something had changed between him and Dean, but damned if he knew what. He really wanted his memory back.

Pissing and then heading back into the bedroom, he nearly ran Dean over as he opened the door. “Dude.”

Dean backed off so quickly that he almost fell on his ass.

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. Dean hissed in pain and Sam pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. Dean had at least two new cuts. Dropping his arm just as Dean pulled back. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Don’t like seeing your handiwork?” Dean sneered at him.

Sam backed up at looked at Dean. No, that was his fantasy, he would have never. . .but it seemed he had. Staggering over to the table Sam sat and put his head down. He was closer to passing out than he had ever been before.

 _In goes the good air, out goes the bad._ He didn’t even remember where he had heard the stupid saying, but it helped him not to think. _In goes the good air, out goes the bad._

Somehow they got through the night, both of them tiptoeing around all the issues that they had scattered between them like broken glass. The next morning they packed up, didn’t talk about anything but where they should go next. Moving on, they headed out to Oklahoma. The people in that housing development kept thinking that they were a couple and god did Dean have fun with that.

Dean telling him that Dad was proud of him shocked Sam to his core. It was one of those moment in which you can decide to change or just stay the same. For the first time some of his anger at his father bled away. Sam had known that they had been around Stanford that one time but never after that. Managing to protect that family, Larry and Matt, Sam decided that he needed to apologize to Dad.

That night he started having a dream. A woman was standing at a window, screaming. He had the dream the next night and the next night and the next. Finally he started drawing pictures from his dreams, the same dead looking tree. Dean was tossing up new jobs for them to take when flipping back and forth between the pictures he remembered where he had seen it before.

Explaining to Dean that he sometimes had these dreams that came true wasn’t easy; he didn’t take it too well. Probably wanted a drink is what Sam figured getting him a beer.

“We need to go home. To Lawrence.” The look he got was one full of pain.

Somewhere along the line, Sam had decided that Dean was right. The good thing about this job was saving families. He talked Dean into going home and they went.

Sam drove while Dean drank and drank. Pulling into a motel, just off of the turnpike, right outside of town, Sam decided that Dean needed to either be completely shitfaced when they got to town or a bit more of his ‘acting sober’ self. Sam got the key and let Dean in while he got the bags from the backseat.

Walking through the door, Dean surprised Sam. Pushing him against the wall and trying to kiss him. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean who growled and attacked his neck. Wondering what the hell had gotten into Dean, Sam pushed him back.

“Dean.”

“Sam. Sam. Sam.” Dean said it as though he was pleading for something.

“I didn’t get a room for this.”

“Fine.” The word was angrily said. Dean walked over to get a chair, the only one the cheap assed room had. “Tell me, Einstein, why did you get the room.”

“Look, you’ve been upset ever since we started back to Lawrence. I just thought that you might want to sober up some or just get plowed before we head into town.”

“How can I watch your back if I’m plowed?”

Sam shrugged. “Sober then?”

Dean seemed to consider it. “Like dry out kind of sober?”

“No, your normal ‘act if everything was okay’ sober.”

“If that’s all, sure.” Dean gave him a grin, then it was gone. “I promised I’d never come back.”

“That family is in danger, Dean and we can help.”

“I know, it’s just. . .”

Nodding in understanding, Sam went and sat on the end of the bed, so he wasn’t looming over Dean. Sam had found that he could loom without even trying. “What do you need?” Sam asked Dean who was swaying a bit in his seat.

“Food, a night’s sleep and a beer in the morning.”

Sam nodded, he could do that. “I’ll go and get us some food. What do you want?”

“Chinese sounds good. Or Thai, that would work too.”

“I think there was a Thai place we passed on the way here. I’ll go and grab us some.”

Getting up from the chair, Dean went and lay down on the bed. “Sweet, wake me when you get back.”

Shaking his head at Dean, Sam dug the keys out of his pocket and headed out to find food. Returning with an order of Pad Thai and some Panang curry with Jasmine rice, Sam quietly opened the door. And found Dean crying. What the fuck had happened now? He sat the food on the counter and crouched down in front of Dean who had been so lost in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Sam.

“Sam.” He sat up and wiped his tears away.

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“What? No, no. Nothing happened, I just tried to call Dad again. Why won’t he answer Sam? Does he hate me? Did I fuck up so badly?”

Knowing how important Dad was to Dean, Sam tried to reassure him. Dean insisted he was fine and got up. “What’d ya get?” He opened a bag. “Pad Thai, great.” Taking a bite he asked, “Where’s the beer?”

“Beer in the morning, remember?” Sam had put what they had in the Impala in the fridge to cool.

“Right,” he sighed and Sam watched as he again went into denial mode. Sam wished he knew what to say that would make Dean talk about everything, hell anything would be nice.

Getting out the curry, Sam mixed it with the rice and then got himself a beer, earning a look from Dean. “What?” Dean just shook his head and took another bite of his food.

“So,” Sam said.

“So.”

“Tomorrow, we go home.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean tried to sound offhanded about it but Sam knew he wasn’t.

“So, we should sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said again and then slumped over to a bed, lay down and within a few moments was sleeping. Sam sat up for a while, watching him. It helped that he didn’t really want to sleep and have more visions or nightmares or both.

Dean started tossing and turning and Sam tried to wake him. “No, Daddy. I don’t wanna leave Sammy. Don’t make me.” What the fuck? Sam paused with his hand over his brother’s shoulder. “Promise, I’ll take care of him. Promise.” The last word was said so loudly that Dean woke himself up. He moved back from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“I was going to wake you up, you were having a nightmare.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, I’m not the one who hits on you all the fucking time.”

Dean looked confused and for a moment Sam almost let it go. However, Sam saw something, a flash of knowledge or memory and he sat on the bed next to Dean. “You sober?” Shrugging, Dean watched Sam.

Deciding that this was as good a moment as any, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and watching closely for any sign that what he was doing wasn’t welcomed, he slowly leaned in and stopped just before his lips touched Dean’s. He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and he knew Dean could feel his and he held still, waiting. They sat like that for a moment, like a tableau, frozen in time and space. Then Dean moved just enough that their lips touched and Sam forced himself not to pounce, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Dean moved his lips and Sam felt his tongue touch his and he parted them. Then it was as if some floodgate had opened. Sam took charge and, wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s head and neck, he held him while he kissed him breathless.

Sam wondered if this time, in this place, in the same fucking town that this whole fucked up life of theirs had started, if he was going to get to fuck to Dean. How weird that he didn’t even bat an eyelash at the thought anymore.

Dean was nearly naked and Sam was still dressed. While he was afraid that if he moved Dean would change his mind, he needed to get undressed. Sam broke a kiss and pulled his t-shirt off. Dean attacked him. Biting and licking at Sam's chest and neck, Dean moved over so he was nearly on Sam’s lap.

Sam ran his hands over Dean. Everywhere he could reach. The freedom to touch what he had been wanting for so long nearly had him coming in his pants. So did Dean’s hand when he put it on his cock that was still encased in denim.

“Dean.” His name came out of Sam’s mouth, full of need and wanting.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice was filled with the same longing. He pulled at the button on Sam’s jeans.

Sam stood and stripped, pushing his briefs down with his jeans. Naked, he stood there for a moment; for forever. Then Dean was on him. His fingers wrapping around Sam’s cock, he moved them slowly, almost reverently he leaned in and took it into his mouth.

Nearly coming just from Dean touching him, Sam had to look away before Dean had his mouth on him, knowing he would have spilled right then. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Sam got his mental fingers somewhat around his control.

Looking down at Dean’s head moving as he sucked him off almost made him lose it again. He ran his fingers through Dean’s short hair his long fingers clenching as Dean licked up the underside of his cock and found that one spot. Now he was panting, he didn’t want to come just yet but Dean had other ideas. As he sucked off Sam he put an arm around him and ran his fingers down Sam’s crack until he touched his asshole. Just the slight brush of Dean’s fingers succeeded in making him come.

“Dean.”

Dean swallowed his come and then grabbing his arm he pulled Sam down for a kiss. Sam then pulled Dean up. “Off,” he tugged at his briefs. Dean complied and Sam smiled. This was going to be good.

Moving so that he was beside Dean, Sam ran his hand up and down Dean’s arm with the cuts. Every time one of his calluses caught on the scab Dean would moan and his cock would twitch. He still had a trouble believing that he had cut Dean and didn’t remember it. Damn it if he cut Dean, he wanted to know how, why. Holding Dean’s arm he didn’t realize how hard he was gripping it until Dean whimpered.

That was a sound that bypassed his brain and went straight to his cock. “Dean.” Sam had something important to ask him.

Dean blinked at him with lust filled eyes.

“Have you done this before?” Sam got a confused look before it cleared.

“Sex? Or sex with my brother?” Dean gave Sam a wicked smile.

“We know you’ve had sex with me,” Sam said with a smirk. “But I’m talking about anal sex.” Dean nodded and Sam couldn’t help but to ask when, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t jealous.

“While you were busy in college.”

“Really? Who?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Sam was willing to drop it. He really didn’t want to know, he just needed to know how slow to take things. But he couldn’t just let Dean get away with saying things like that. “Gentleman?”

Dean looked affronted for a moment. Then he leaned closer and reaching around Sam he pulled him in for a kiss.

Tasting himself on Dean’s lips, in his mouth, knowing that Dean had swallowed his come was making him harder. Hell, those years with Jess and he could count on one hand how many times she had swallowed. Always looking like she had just eaten something out of the toilet, he hadn’t asked her after the first time and every time she did it he felt guilty. Dean, however, looked like he enjoyed it and for some reason it made him feel less of a freak.

Reaching under Dean’s pillow, Sam drew out his knife. Dean’s eyes widened and he watched it as if it were a snake.

“I’m going to fuck you Dean.” Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam and then back to the knife. “While I’m fucking you I’m going to mark you.” Now he had Dean’s full attention. Drawing the knife across his tongue he couldn’t feel the sharp edge cut but he knew from the metallic taste in his mouth that he had.

Dean looked at the knife with Sam’s blood on it and then back to Sam’s mouth, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. Sam swallowed the little bit of blood in his mouth and then licked his lips, if anything Dean’s eyes widened more. He was inching forward, asking with his body if he could kiss Sam.

So, Sam kissed him. Dean’s tongue invaded his mouth almost frantically searching out a taste of Sam’s blood. If Sam didn’t know better he would wonder if Dean had been bitten by a vampire. Sam sat back and looked over his brother for a reconfirmation of that fact.

Dropping the knife and reaching into the bedside table, Sam brought out the lube. His brother said he’d done this. That made Sam a little more relaxed about the whole thing. He’d never been with a virgin and he’d been worried that Dean was one.

Dean was tense as bowstring, however. Sam wasn’t sure if it was the blood, the promised sex, the promised marking or the raging hard on that he was sporting that was the cause, but he decided to see if he could get the man a little more relaxed.

Sam scooted down until he could get between Dean’s legs. With no hesitation he wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock and slid his mouth down on it. His other hand digging into Dean’s hip so hard he knew he was causing bruises. Moving his hand in time with his mouth took a little bit to coordinate, but once he found the rhythm he didn’t lose it.

Then Sam slid his hand from Dean's hip and around his thigh. Pushing Dean’s leg up, exposing more of him to taste and touch. Dean’s cock came out of his mouth with a pop and Sam moved down, licking and sucking on Dean’s balls, the sweaty salty musky smell was driving him crazy. Then he licked down and around Dean’s hole. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s that was still around his cock and squeezed. Apparently he didn’t want to come.

Eyes flicking up to meet Dean’s Sam found he wanted to give Dean whatever he needed. Closing his eyes he tongued his tight hole and then pushed it in.

“Sammmm,” Dean drew out his name and Sam relented. Fumbling, his hand found the lube because Dean handed it to him. Grunting thanks he slicked his fingers up. Sliding his index finger around Dean’s ring of muscle.

“Push,” he ordered Dean and as he obeyed Sam slipped his finger in, stopping at his first knuckle. Dean had other ideas and pressed down, fucking himself on Sam’s finger. “Dean,” Dean's name came out in a breathy moan.

Dean’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Sam slowly drew his finger out pushed it back in, watching as Dean’s hips came up slightly. Making sure it was still wet with the lube Sam put a second finger at Dean’s entrance and didn’t have to tell him to push because the moment he pulled the first out Dean was ready for the second. Two fingers went in a bit slower but as he pulled them out he dragged his fingers across Dean’s prostate.

“Sammy, please, please,” Dean begged, “just fuck me.”

Sam hesitated and Dean pushed down hard on his fingers.

“’T ’s okay, just fuck me, please.” The words were murmured as if Dean didn’t have any strength left.

Sam pulled his fingers out with a pop. Pouring more lube on his hand he slicked his cock up. Dean still had his hand clamped at the base of his cock. “Dean.” Sam got his attention.

“You won’t come until I say so. Move your hand.” Sam knew that the intense feeling from his cock going into Dean’s ass would take away some of his need to come. Dean reluctantly let go, his eyes on Sam who was positioning himself at Dean’s hole. Slowly he began to push in.

It was very intense for Sam. Dean was pushing back which allowed him easier access. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.” Then he was buried balls deep in his brother. It was where he wanted to be for so long he didn’t even know when he started wanting it.

Pulling out he watched Dean’s erect cock bob; the head red and leaking. Grabbing a pillow he shoved it under Dean’s ass then he palmed Dean’s knife as he pushed in again. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean gave him a small knowing smile then he saw the knife. Sam could feel him clamp down on his cock and he grabbed Dean’s cock and gave it a sharp twist that he knew would hurt. “No coming ‘till I say,” he reminded him when he got a yelp and a look from Dean.

Sam was once again buried to the hilt in his brother but this time Dean’s eyes were almost entirely black, Sam held the knife over his stomach and Dean’s breathing became so rapid that Sam thought for a moment that he might be hyperventilating, “Dean.”

Sam pulled out a little and slammed back into his ass. “Dean!” Finally he got his attention. “You need to calm down, or I stop this. Got it?”

Dean nodded and Sam watched him calm himself down. Probably whatever they did just before a hunt got really interesting. Sam just had to be happy that he wasn’t humming Metallica, he wasn’t sure he could have taken that.

Sam rested the knife on the bed his hand still curled around the hilt, then he leaned over his brother and fucked him. Dean turned his head to try and see the knife and finally Sam gave a little laugh at his antics. Sitting back up he looked at Dean who appeared more in control than he had been.

Holding the knife over Dean’s chest Sam pressed it to his skin, lightly dragging it downward he watched a white line appear and then it filled with red. Dean’s hips twitched and Sam dragged his eyes away from the welling line of red and looked at Dean’s face.

There was a wild look in his eyes and then Sam dropped the knife and running a finger down the line he had cut into his brother he told him to come. Dean’s eyes rolled up into his head and Sam had never before seen anyone come so hard that it hit the wall way behind them. Sam pulled out and pushed back in, once. Then everything he had been holding back just came out. As his come spilled into Dean, words spilled out of his mouth.

“Want this. . .you. . .always have. Need you. . .like breathing. . .don’t leave because of this. . .please. . .love you, so much.”

Sam curled up next to Dean and realized that his brother had passed out when he had come and hadn’t heard a damn thing he said.

****************

So, Missouri. She knew. From the moment that the door opened, Sam knew she knew. All the things that they had been through and then they just had to run into a psychic. She didn’t talk about it, they discussed their old home and what might be there.

Poltergeist, oh fucking great. Dean had saved Sam from being strangled by that lamp cord and they had finished the cleansing ritual. Missouri had declared the house clean but Sam wasn’t so sure, there was something he felt. Convincing Dean that he just had a ‘feeling’ that everything wasn’t okay had been interesting.

They sat for hours watching the house, when Sam spotted Jenny in the window screaming for help. Just like in his dream. They ran in and got to her and her children, getting them outside Sam and Dean ended up trapped inside.

Their mom’s spirit saved them in the end. She told Dean how much she loved him and then she told Sam, who remembered her only from pictures that she was sorry. Sorry for what? Then she was gone, Sam was holding Dean and they were both just barely holding it together.

Jenny was moving. Dean and Sam got some old pictures and new memories of their mother. They went back to their motel room, got drunk and fucked. Sloppy, messy and desperate, it wasn’t pretty.

Sam had slammed Dean against the door as soon as it was shut. Kissing him, biting and making him bleed. Dean just let him, let him do everything, anything. Sam stopped as Dean told him it was okay over and over and over again.

Pulling back from his brother, he saw the bruised and bloody lips and flinched. Dean pushed past him and went to take a beer out of the fridge. “God, Dean.” Sammy wasn’t sure if he was apologizing or what.

Dean just shook his head and took a long pull on the beer. He pulled another one out and handed it to Sam. Sam stared at it like he wasn’t sure what it was. Dean reached out and twisted the top off and then clinked his bottle against Sam’s. “Mom,” he said.

Looking up at Dean with pain filled eyes, Sam slowly lifted the bottle to his mouth and chugged it down. Tossing the bottle in the general direction of the garbage, Sam went and grabbed another one. He pulled three more out, setting them on the table.

They didn’t talk about this; they didn’t talk about their mom, or dad. Instead Sam brought up Missouri.

“She knew,” Sam assuming Dean knew what he was talking about.

“Mom?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Missouri. She knew about us.”

“Well then,” Dean said and took another pull on his bottle, “why didn’t she say something?”

“She did, kinda.” Sam drank down the rest of his beer and opened another one. He just knew what his brother’s next question was going to be, and he wasn’t ready for it.

“What does that mean?”

“I could feel her rifling through my memories, I could almost hear her in my head. It was weird though. It was like she approved, or at least wasn’t appalled by it, by us.” Sam didn’t know how to explain the feeling he had.

“She thought that us fucking was okay?” Dean’s disbelief wasn’t surprising. If Sam hadn’t felt what he felt, he would have never believed it either.

“Seemed to. I think, no, I know she knows something, something that might happen.” Sam took another drink. “Something bad so it doesn’t matter what we do now, ‘cause what’s coming is so damn worse.”

Dean frowned at him and sat down. He seemed more fascinated by Sam’s mouth than by what he was saying.

“Did you hear me?” Sam asked and Dean shook his head. Finishing up his beer, Dean grabbed the next one off the table. Reaching out, Sam ran his fingers gently over Dean’s swollen lips.

Parting them, Dean licked the end of his finger, and whatever he had been thinking about just flew out of his head. He watched as the end of his finger disappeared into Dean’s mouth. Fuck, Dean was. . . Sam lost him for a moment, then realized Dean was kneeling in front of him, hands on his fly and then quicker than Sam could follow, Dean had his cock out. Sam scooted down in the seat so Dean could pull his pants down and then stayed there as Dean slowly engulfed his hard dick. Watching in amazement as he took it all in, it had to be partway down his throat.

Dean backed off and sucked on the head of his cock. “God, Dean,” Sam groaned or moaned or something. “You gotta stop. . .” The head of his cock popped out of Dean’s mouth. Cocking his head and looking up at Sam it was as if he were trying to figure out if Sam was serious.

“Stop?”

“Yeah, I wanna be inside you when I come.”

Dean’s pupils dilated a bit and he gave Sam a secretive smile. Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother as he stood up and reached out to pull Sam up. Somehow they managed to get to the bed, kicking off clothes as they went.

Sam was pushed down on his back and Dean was there, lube in hand. Looking around, Sam wondered where he had got the lube so fast. Bedside table, that’s right. Being brought back from his musings by Dean’s hand wrapping around his cock, slick and cold, Sam wondered what he was planning as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into Dean’s hand. Then Dean was all over him. Kissing and biting the dip of his hip and up his stomach, biting each nipple until they were red and sore and Sam was moaning under him, Dean finally kissed his mouth and Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s head and held him still.

Before he could catch a breath Dean was on top of him, Sam’s hard cock rubbing in the crack of his ass. Dean reached back and held Sam steady as he slowly lowered himself on Sam’s cock. “Dean,” it was halfway between a whine and a growl.

Dean just kept pushing down until Sam’s cock was entirely engulfed by him. Sam reached up and touched the cut on Dean’s stomach. With all his exertions he had broken the cut open and Sam’s fingers came away red.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned, “please.”

Sliding a hand under Dean’s pillow Sam pulled out his knife. “This what you want Dean?” The look that Dean gave the knife and then Sam said yes. Sam slid the flat of the blade across his own chest as Dean continued to fuck himself on Sam’s cock. Once again, like a cat watching a viper, Dean watched the knife. Sam turned it and pressed the tip against his skin.

Making a whining sound at the back of his throat, Dean watched as Sam drew the knife across his chest. He hadn’t been pressing hard enough to bring more than a few drops of blood to the surface. Watching as Dean watched him he pulled it across his chest again with more pressure and Sam felt the burn and then the warmth of his blood. Then Dean leaned down and licked it. Sam bucked up and then dropping the knife he grabbed Dean’s hips, digging his fingers in, leaving bruises on top of bruises, holding his brother still while he fucked him.

Dean had set up a fairly steady keen at this point, and Sam had stopped listening but something caught his attention and he listened to what his brother was saying.

“Sammy oh Sammy yes oh fuck yes, cut me Sammy, make me bleed, make me come, shove that cock in my ass, fuck me Sammy, make me yours, make me bleed, make me come. . .” and Dean just kept saying it, over and over again.

Stilling Dean and then reaching for the knife again had Dean’s breathing increasing. “You gotta hold still Dean, or I might cut too deep.” Sam was practical as ever. Wiping the blade off, Sam flicked it against Dean’s arm, rewarded with a small welling of blood and then it stopped.

Dean groaned and Sam felt the vibrations down to his cock. Sam slid the knife across Dean’s chest again, hardly pressing and just barely bringing up a small thin line of red. Then another one, a bit deeper, this one bled quite nicely. Knowing that he wasn’t going to last that much longer, Sam rubbed his hand on his chest and then on Dean’s getting it wet with blood. Reaching down he wrapped the bloody hand around Dean’s cock and with a short jerk Dean was coming all over Sam’s stomach and chest. After Dean finished, Sam let himself go, fucking up into his brother so hard he thought he might split him in two. Moments later Sam was coming with a groan of Dean’s name.

Sam managed to get up and find a washcloth to clean them up with before he passed out, either from the beer or the sex or both. Waking up, Sam rolled over and saw Dean. Really saw Dean. His body was bruised and as he watched his brother raise his arm to check out a bite mark, Sam saw the deeper of the cuts on his chest start bleeding. Sam didn’t remember biting Dean but everything had been kind of in a haze of lust and drunkenness.

Dean winced as he touched the wound, he had got out the rubbing alcohol and was treating his cuts. Cuts that Sam had made. Wincing along with Dean, Sam wanted to close his eyes, to pretend he hadn’t seen what he had done to his brother, his lover. Dean met his eyes in a mirror and Sam couldn’t handle how empty Dean’s seemed.

Getting out of bed, he slid into his pants and then headed for the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him Sam looked in the mirror and he decided he didn’t much like the person staring back. He shouldn’t be doing this with his brother, to his brother. Repulsed by his enjoyment of hurting Dean, Sam decided it had to end. He just couldn’t do it; he couldn’t live with himself if he kept hurting Dean.

Having come to a decision, Sam felt a kind of peace come over him. He could do this. He could be strong, tell his brother no, keep him safe. Walking out of the bathroom, it felt to Sam that he was a different person. He was going to be the best damn brother he could and that was it and that was all.

Three months later and he wasn’t sure if Dean wanted to kill him or just tie him up and rape him. He got looks that said both things from his brother. Then Chicago happened, and Meg again, and the Daevas, and Dad. If things had been tense between them before, after being around Dad they fell right back into the old roles and it was both a relief and a nightmare to Sam.

They had separated from Dad because Dean had decided that Meg was right. They were a threat to him. Sam had argued against it, he wanted to stay with Dad to help him. If he was honest with himself he wanted to stay with Dad because Dean acted more like his brother and less like a scorned lover around him. Even if acting as his brother had occasionally included drunken kisses at least Sam had been in control, he had felt like he had lost it in Kansas and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get it back.

Dean had taken to bringing women and men back to their hotel room to fuck. After Chicago it all came to a head one night. Dean had brought back a girl and her boyfriend. Sam listened to Dean fucking the girl while getting fucked by the boy. Pretending to be asleep until Dean had let them both out and had shut the door, Sam sat up and looked at his brother’s smug face.

“What the hell what that Dean?”

“Oh, you’re awake?” Dean asked as if he hadn’t known had been lying there listening to him.

“Well, you know, calling my name as you fuck some girl while you get fucked by her boyfriend has a way of making sure I’m awake,” Sam sniped.

“How do you know his or her name wasn’t Sam?” Dean asked.

“His name was Taylor and hers was Sara and you are an idiot.”

“Who’s the idiot who lay there pretending to be asleep?”

“Fuck you, Dean. No, wait, you already got fucked!” Sam got dressed. He had had all he could take, never mind that the entire mess was all of his making.

Sam went for a walk that turned into a run, which turned into a slog as it began to rain and then pour. Of course it would rain. Usually his temper didn’t last for very long and this time, he had a good hour in the rain just thinking. Thinking about what Dean had done and about what he had done to Dean for these past months. What he had done had been so much worse. Never explaining why he had stopped touching Dean, not that Dean had asked out loud but he had with his eyes and the occasional questioning touch that Sam had always shrugged off. Sam decided that he actually deserved much worse than what Dean had been doing to him.

Then they had hunt that went badly, then very badly. They hadn’t been talking to one another for a couple of days and Dean had been drinking fairly steadily. Sam had known that hunting for anything was a bad idea but everything he could find on bogys was that they were a slow kind of hobgoblin. Slow and stupid.

He should have known when they couldn’t find any traces of the thing at first but then they ‘stumbled’ across some tracks that things weren’t right. Part of the problem was that Sam was tired, angry and distracted and the rest of the problem was that Dean was drunk. Not his normal ‘I can function’ drunk, but ‘was that a tree I just fell into?’ drunk.

So the ‘slow and stupid’ creature maneuvered them so that they had ended up shooting each other instead of it. They somehow managed to get back to the Impala; Dean with a silver bullet in his shoulder and Sam with one in his leg that, if the squishing in his shoe was any indication, had hit a vein. He applied pressure to the wound every time they stopped but they had to keep moving to get to the car. Dean wasn’t much help but they finally made it.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat and took a look at Dean who was slumped in the seat against the passenger door his hand on his shoulder, what a pair they were. Dean roused enough to mumble something.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Bobby’s,” Dean said loud enough this time. Bobby’s? Sam had planned on taking them to the nearest hospital and said so. Dean shook his head. “Bobby, closer no questions.”

Dean had a point. So Sam pulled out and headed towards where he thought Bobby’s place was. Missing the turn off, Dean had told him so even though Sam was surprised he was still conscious. Pulling into Bobby’s yard they were greeted with a double barrel shotgun, as soon as Bobby recognized them and proved to himself that they weren’t possessed, he hurried them inside or tried to. Pulling open Sam’s door he started cursing as he saw all of the blood.

“Dean,” Sam said wanting to make sure that Bobby knew he was hurt, too. Watching as Bobby looked over at Dean slumped against the passenger door, his wound bleeding sluggishly.

“Your brother’s fine but you are both idiots,” Bobby said as he helped Sam out. “Can’t either one of you tie a tourniquet?” It was the last thing Sam heard for a while because he passed out.

Waking up, Sam saw he had an IV bag hanging above him. He must have moved because Bobby noticed.

“Mornin, sleeping beauty.”

“Dean?” The first thing out of Sam’s mouth was his brother’s name.

“Fine, he didn’t pass out from blood loss, just alcohol poisoning.” Sam’s eyes widened as he didn’t catch Bobby’s teasing. Then Bobby just kept talking, “What were you thinking? Driving with that hole in your leg?’ Sam started to say something but Bobby held his hand up. “Never mind, I smelled your brother from your side of the car.”

Finally realizing that Bobby would be a whole lot more upset if Dean had been suffering from alcohol poisoning, Sam relaxed just as Bobby sat down on a chair right beside the bed.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby asked again. “Taking your brother on a hunt, drunk.” Bobby sat back and finally seemed to be willing to listen to his unthinking self but Sam didn’t want to talk.

Bobby just waited, settling in the chair. Finally Sam gave a huff and started talking.

“Dad and Dean. . .” he launched into an explanation that he knew wouldn’t satisfy Bobby but there was no way he was going to tell the truth. That he had fucked his brother, stopped fucking his brother, and his brother had set about fucking the rest of the country.

Bobby let it slide. That was one of the things that Sam had always noticed about Bobby, unless it was life or death, right at that moment, he could let things go. He was friends with John Winchester after all.

Sam recovered slowly. Dean had had his bullet removed; Sam’s was still lodged in his thigh. Bobby had decided that after he had stitched the vein back together that Sam could live with the bullet there. If it was bothersome, he could always take it out later, oh joy.

Going back and taking care of the bogy with Dean’s help, Bobby and a sober enough Dean didn’t appear to have any trouble. But then Bobby hadn’t been dealing with a drunk and sullen Dean, it seemed to make a difference.

They came back and Sam was _allowed_ to get up by Bobby. Watching as his brother and the man joked around Sam tried, mostly successfully to squash his feeling of jealousy. If he had problems with his brother, they were of his own making, he knew that.

“The look on your face. . .” Dean laughed.

“What didja expect? The thing darn near crawled up my pants, and after your great aim with Sam here,” Bobby patted Sam on the back, “I thought you were going to shoot me.”

Sam gave, or rather tried to give a smile. Dean wasn’t looking at him, except for a brief glance as Bobby patted him, Sam got nothing. He was acting as if Sam wasn’t even in the room.

Bobby looked between them and Sam realized this was the first time that Bobby had seen the two of them together and awake, since. Well, just since. Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you two?”

Dean shrugged and Sam said nothing he just watched Dean and then pointedly didn’t watch him.

Bobby gave a snort of disbelief and went to fix dinner.

Two days later they were getting ready to leave and Bobby pulled Sam aside. “Don’t know what you been doing. But, whatever it is ain’t working. You keep this up, this non-arguing arguing you both got going on and one or both of you could end up dead. Sam, pull your head out of your ass. Both of you are supposed to be there for each other.” Bobby stopped his speech and looked at Sam. “You gotta be there for one another, however that may be.”

Sam looked sharply at Bobby. Was he saying what Sam thought he was? Bobby just patted Sam on the back and told him to think about it and Sam was never positive.

Dean was driving and Sam settled into the passenger’s side with a sigh. He could feel the wound in his leg pull but the bullet didn’t bother him and Bobby had decided that it was fine.

“Sorry, Sammy.” It was the first words that Dean had said to him since before the hunt. Bobby must have talked with him too.

“’t’s ‘kay. ‘m sorry too.” Sam couldn’t seem to help reverting to a four year old when apologizing to his brother.

Dean had this amazing capacity to just let things go, that Sam had always admired about him. Now, Sam did consider the possibility that Dean let things go because he didn’t remember them, because of drinking, but he knew that wasn’t the case in this instance. Sam watched for a week as Dean tried to be the big brother that he never really had been.

There had been a couple of moments of tension between them. Once when Sam had reached across Dean for something and their eyes had met. It had been Dean to break contact and look away. The second had happened after Dean had had a couple drinks that had lead to a couple more and Sam ended up helping him back to their room. Sam had tripped and pulled Dean down with him. Sam managed to fall so that Dean landed on him and as Sam lay there trying to remember how to breathe, Dean lay on him and looked. Sam had been ready to reach up and pull Dean down to kiss him when Dean had quickly gotten up.

Watching Dean as he self-destructed right in front of him, Sam got to the point where he finally he couldn’t take it any longer. After a long day in the car and several almost touches and glances out of the corner of his eyes, Sam got them a room. Walking purposely into the room, he turned and locked the deadbolt behind him.

Dean held his hand up. “I know, I know. We need to talk.”

Sam was on him, pushing him up against the closest wall. “Later, maybe.” Looking down into Dean’s green eyes, Sam watched as they widened in recognition then as they filled with desire. Leaning his head down Sam kissed his brother.

It was neither gentle nor short. Breaking apart with a gasp, Dean rested his head against the wall as Sam attacked his neck, licking and biting. Sam pulled Dean’s shirt off and was a bit surprised to see no new marks. Running his fingers over the scar that ran across Dean’s chest from the last time he had cut him he was surprised as Dean groaned his name.

They were naked on the bed and Dean was writhing underneath him as he engulfed Dean’s cock in his mouth. “Sammy,” Dean moaned and Sam couldn’t stop his hips from bucking forward at the need in Dean’s voice. “Please.” It seemed to Sam that Dean had spent most of his life asking Sam for things that Sam had told him no. He had finally realized that whether or not it was good for Dean, Sam couldn’t tell him no anymore.

Moving down Sam ran his tongue around Dean’s musky hole. Licking and putting a hand on Dean’s hip as he felt him come off the bed. Sam felt the ring of muscle tighten as he ran his tongue around it. Slowly working his mouth over it, Sam was rewarded as Dean relaxed enough for him to push his tongue in.

Grabbing the lube, he slicked up his cock and after sucking a few times on Dean’s he moved. Sam put his dick at Dean’s entrance and slowly pushed in. Watching his cock disappear into his brother inch by inch no longer felt wrong. Looking into Dean’s eyes as he sank all the way in, Sam realized that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Dean. Even if it meant helping him drink himself to death. Pulling back out he slammed back in and Dean groaned.

“Sammy.”

Sam concentrated on fucking, Dean’s hard cock trapped between them as Sam leaned in to kiss him. He began to lose his rhythm Dean felt so good. “Come for me Dean,” Sam commanded and Dean complied. It wasn’t normal, hell it didn’t even come within close of normal, but it was all Sam had, so he held his brother tight and came with him.

Maybe they would find a way out of this, but probably not. Sam rolled off of his brother and wrapped his arms around him. If they died tomorrow, or next year it didn’t matter to Sam, they were both damned but Sam would try to be there for as long as Dean needed him.


End file.
